


The Whole Air is Full of Souls

by Gen642



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gen642/pseuds/Gen642
Summary: An AU collection of drabbles and ficlets in which daemons (as seen in His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman) exist in the world of Star Trek. Some of these will be missing scenes and others will be retellings of certain moments.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and her daemon debrief after the events of "Context is for Kings"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd so please forgive any spelling and grammar errors. A list of daemons relating to characters in each piece will be in the end notes.

“I suppose It’s better than prison”

Michael stretched, leaning back against her pillow, and turned to look into the glowing eyes of her daemon. In the low light of the cabin, they gleamed a soft golden, stretched around dark pupils. He was stretched along the bunk with his paws out in front of him, his head raised. Sitting like that he reminded her of the Sphinx from one of her childhood picture books, the one about Ancient Egypt. 

He blinked at her.

“You suppose?”

She sighed, but couldn’t help a small smile at the bemused expression on his face.

“At least in prison no one really knew us.”

“Of course they knew us. We’re mutineers.”

She dropped her gaze and tangled her fingers together.

“But they didn’t know us before, so they couldn’t hate us. Not really.”

Michael thought back to when she had seen Detmer, in the mess hall. The way the pilot had looked at her. The hurt, followed by the betrayal, and then the anger that had flashed across her face. How her kestrel daemon had fixed her with a piercing glare before ignoring her entirely.

And then there was Saru. Who was almost impossible to read. Michael had grown up knowing that a daemon’s form wasn’t just a reflection of their personality, it was their soul. A person’s daemon could reveal more about them than their words or actions ever could. But Saru didn’t have a daemon, apparently no Kelpians did. They were one of the few known races in the universe whose souls lived within their bodies.

Then again, Saru hadn’t needed a daemon to make clear what he thought of her. 

She was someone to fear. Someone dangerous.

At her side, Michael’s own soul - his name was Silus - rose to his feet and stretched. The jet spots that dappled his fur rippled along his back. He looked pointedly at the empty bed across from them.

“Not everyone hates us.”

Of course. Tilly. The redheaded bundle of nerves and allergies. After the trip to the Glenn, and her apology to Michael about the “assigned seating” situation, she had reverted back to her upbeat conversational self. Ironically, Michael hadn’t heard Tilly’s daemon say a single word. He had simply sat there watching her with wide eyes, his head cocked to the side. He hadn’t seemed cold, just quiet.

“Perhaps. But you heard her on the boarding party. She needs to make a good impression. She won’t want to be seen being friendly with us”

Silus tilted his head.

“I wasn’t aware we were trying to make friends.”

“We’re not.”

She didn’t need friends. She just missed being a part of something. A crew. 

She twisted her hands together again. Silus nudged them affectionately. He understood. 

Understood that this was different. That they weren’t really wanted here. Lieutenant Stamets had made that abundantly clear. 

Then again, he didn’t want to be here himself. When they had met in Engineering he had been curt, and harshly-spoken. His blue and green daemon hadn’t even looked at them from where she perched on his shoulder. 

But he had been different on the shuttle to the Glenn. When he had talked about the building blocks of the universe, and awe, he had changed. There had been an excitement in his eyes, and his daemon had flapped her wings animatedly, as if she were about to take flight.

Perhaps they might have been friends. If circumstances had been different. If not for the fact that he had been forced to take part in a war that she herself was responsible for. If not for the fact that his friend had just died a horrific death in that very war.

Perhaps not.

Michael stifled a yawn and slid further down into her bed. Tilly would be coming back soon to prepare for bed, but Michael would rather she were asleep by then.

Silus followed suit, yawning widely, his fangs flashing in the dim light.

“There is one thing,” he murmured as he curled his tail around himself, brushing it against her side.

“Hmm?” She lifted her head.

“There is one thing that makes this place infinitely better than prison.”

Michael quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly, and he opened one eye. It glinted at her, a hint of mirth in the way he flicked his ears.

“The food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael - Serval  
> Detmer - American Kestrel  
> Tilly - Red Panda  
> Stamets - European Bee-eater


	2. Glitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A retelling of the scene surrounding Hugh Culber's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd so please forgive any spelling and grammar errors. A list of daemons relating to characters in each piece will be in the end notes.

The doors to medbay opened and Lieutenant Ash Tyler strode inside, coming to a stop after only a few steps. His magpie daemon, Kairi, came to settle on his folded arms, her black and white wings rustling against his uniform.

Before them, Doctor Culber was running a tricorder over the prone body of Lieutenant Stamets. Other than the three men and their daemons the room was empty and almost silent, save for the low pitched whines and hums of medial equipment.

Culber’s daemon lay across his shoulders. From where Tyler stood she almost seemed asleep, but as the doctor moved around his patient’s bedside Tyler saw the glimmer of her eyes, never leaving the scientist’s sleeping form. Culber moved his hand to Stamet’s wrist, checking the pulse. As he did so she shifted, moving fluidly down the length of his arm to nose at the blue and green feathers of the frozen form nestled by Stamet’s head. The bird daemon’s eyes were closed in sleep, but she seemed unsettled. Every few moments her head would twitch, or a wing would snap out in jerky, aborted movements.

Tyler cleared his throat, making his presence known. 

“You called Doc? You find anything?”

“Yeah, um…”

Culber turned and gestured to a free bed. Tyler obliged and propped himself up in a sitting position. Kairi shifted to settle on his lap.

“Have you ever received any neurological therapies or marrow diminution procedures before?”

Tyler shrugged.

“No, not that I know of.”

Culber frowned. His own daemon remained on Stamets’ bed but her eyes flickered between the two men.

“There are masses of scar tissue surrounding all of your organs”.

Tyler nodded, grimacing inwardly. Kairi rustled and he brought a hand up from the bed to smooth her feathers.

“From my torture.”

“Right. That’s what the computer concluded when you first came aboard, but I’ve run more advanced tests, and…”

The doctor picked up a holoslide and went to insert it into a reader below one of the medbay’s screens..

“If I’m reading these chondroblast cell scans correctly, what the Klingons did to you can only be described as… 

He turned back to the Lieutenant

“Bone crushing.”

Tyler gave another nod, attempting to hold the doctor’s gaze. But something was wrong. Kairi shook beneath his fingers. What he’d taken for discomforted restlessness at the mention of their torture had become more intense. He could feel a juddering sensation moving through her whole body, as though each of her tiny bones were attempting to rotate in their sockets.

Tyler widened his grasp, trying to cover her as Culber continued.

“They appear to have shortened your radius, your femurs, even your spinal cord”.

Tyler looked away, no longer able to meet the doctor’s gaze. Instead he looked beyond him, to Culber’s daemon, still sitting on the bed beside Stamets. Moments before she had been looking at him with the same wary expression Culber still wore, but now her gaze was fixed on Kairi, her trembling form barely hidden under Tyler’s hand. 

Culber hadn’t yet seen Kairi, and Tyler forced himself to look back at the doctor.

“What are you getting at?”

Culber kept talking. About theories, personality engrams, native identities. Blood was rushing in Tyler’s ears. His eyes pricked and a low thrumming started up behind them. He shook his head, trying to disperse the pressure building up within his skull

“It appears the Klingons have transformed you. Both mentally and physically.”

He stared at Culber, willing himself to focus.

“Into what?”

“That’s what we have to figure out.”

“Doc, I came for a solution.”

Tyler stood. Kairi fell to the floor. He didn’t look at her. Somewhere, in the back of his mind he knew that was wrong, knew that he should be concerned. But the blood was rushing louder and louder.

“You said you could fix it.”

“Please, sit down”.

Culber’s daemon let out a low hiss, her eyes burning into the spot where Kairi lay. Tyler ignored them both.

“I’m needed on a mission.”

“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere without further examination”

“They need me!”

“That’s just it. As far as I’m concerned - “

Culber was cut off by a high pitched keen that came from the magpie at Tyler’s feet. Or what had been a magpie. 

The two men stared as the creature writhed and twisted, rolling on the floor. Black and white feathers gave way to scales and then back to feathers again. Grey horns protruded from a jet black head and then receded. Kairi’s beak split into teeth and a forked tongue flicked out and disappeared again. Tyler stared in shock at his daemon. 

He recognised those scales. Had seen them - albeit a different shade - on the creature that clung to L’Rell’s arm. Somewhere in his mind the name of the creature came forth, but it made no sense to him. Kairi twisted and those scales enveloped her body, short, thick legs with clawed feet dropped to the floor. Culber’s daemon gave another hiss and Tyler brought his gaze back up to meet the doctor’s. Culber stared back at him.

“You’re not you”.

Tyler couldn’t move. The pressure behind his eyes was now a beating pain. He shook hs head and

Voq reached out and snapped the human’s neck, feeling the sharp crunch beneath his fingers. The human had no warning, no chance to fight back. his daemon’s eyes widened for the smallest fraction of a second, before she dissolved into a dusting of gold that shimmered and disappeared before the body of the man had even hit the floor.

From the other bed came a screeching whistle, piercing through the silence. Then a quiet voice.

“The enemy is here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daemon forms
> 
> Tyler - Magpie  
> Culber - Polecat  
> Stamets - European Bee-eater


	3. Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Cornwell gets a moment of quiet, after the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd so please forgive any spelling and grammar errors. A list of daemons relating to characters in each piece will be in the end notes.

Katrina Cornwell sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. The medal ceremony hadn’t been draining in itself, and yet now that she was alone she found herself exhausted. Perhaps because it had signified the end of the fighting. Of the pain and the loss they had endured. Perhaps because this was the first time in a long time that she had had time to just sit and be with her thoughts.

She really didn’t want to be with her thoughts right now. She pushed the heel of her palm against her closed eyes and tried to block out the emotions that had been steadily moving to the surface of her mind, like sharks circling a sinking vessel. 

Sadness. Anger. Dismay. Guilt. 

Guilt that right now was directed at the dozing barn owl whose claws gripped the back of her seat. Burnham had told her that the people in the other universe didn’t have daemons, that their souls resided inside their bodies. It wasn’t until they made the journey through to this world that the creatures appeared.

Cornwell couldn’t imagine living like that. Alone. In Orizon she had a companion, a mirror, someone who both knew her and was her. Someone who listened.

Only she hadn’t returned the favour. In that moment, more than anything, she couldn’t stand that he didn’t blame her for that. For not listening to his cautions, his concerns, his suspicions.

He had said, hadn’t he? That something about Lorca’s daemon wasn’t right. But she had been so preoccupied with her own relief, with looking to the future of the war, that she had brushed it off.

After all, it hadn’t been unheard of for an adult’s daemon to change form after a major traumatic event. Cornwell had read of it in the staff records for Discovery’s own Lieutenant Airiam, and what Lorca and his daemon had been through surely qualified as traumatic. But now, looking back, she realised that the change had been in more than just appearance. 

Janna had always been such a calm soul. Her wide, pale eyes always watching from her perch atop Lorca’s shoulder. Her voice, when she deigned to use it, had been soft and solemn. Her words, always honest and well-thought out.

At Cornwell and Lorca’s first reunion - or first meeting, as she now realised it had been, the daemon had been different. Restless, her claws digging into the surface of the table they sat at. Her eyes - smaller, with a sharper gaze - had darted wildly about the room. Strangest of all, she had shown no recognition of Cornwell or Orizon. Lorca himself had been tense, but Cornwell had put that down to his previous ordeal. Yet now, thinking back to Janna’s lack of interaction… Well, of course she had been different. 

Because it hadn’t been Janna. Because it hadn’t been Lorca.  
Not their Lorca, anyway. It had been that different version, with a different creature at his side.

Cornwell wondered if she’d had a name. She didn’t think it mattered now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daemon forms
> 
> Cornwell - Barn Owl  
> Prime Lorca - Western Screech Owl  
> Mirror Lorca - Cooper's Hawk


	4. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirror Georgiou on her first night in the Prime Universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd so please forgive any spelling and grammar errors. A list of daemons relating to characters in each piece will be in the end notes.

Her name was Philippa Georgiou Augustus Iaponius Centarius. Her Most Imperial Majesty, Mother of the Fatherland, Overlord of Vulcan, Dominus of Qo'noS, Regina Andor.

But now? Now she was just Philippa Georgiou. Barely even that, since the name seemed to already have been taken in this world. She was a shadow. A copy. Alone In a room on the USS Discovery. Polishing a large silver knife, and thinking.

She thought of Michael. Not her Michael, the new one. The one who had brought her into this strange new world. The one who was always accompanied by the large, spotted wildcat. 

Somehow, Philippa had not seen the creature when she had first met Michael. She would have noticed him, would have said something. Would have wondered what Michael was doing returning from the dead with a wild animal at her side. A wild animal that was smaller than a dog at that, and therefore of no particular protective use. No, she would have seen him, he simply hadn’t been there.

Yet now, when she looked back, he had been. It was as though he existed only in her memories.

She understood now. These creatures, daemons they were called, only existed for the people of this world. For her now, she supposed. It had taken a moment of adjustment but it surprised her how quickly their presence had become normal to her. They were simply a part of the people she met. As normal as a limb.

Perhaps this was why the people of this world were such proponents of peace. Why they placed so much value on harmony, unity, and so many other concepts she had considered to be both foreign and insignificant. But here, in this universe, where a person’s soul could be seen by all…

Philippa was torn away from her thoughts by a yawn. She placed the cloth in a drawer by her bed, and the knife beneath her pillow. These people may be more peaceful than those she had known, but she didn’t believe in taking chances. Yawning again, she commanded the lights to dim -although not completely - and closed her eyes.

In her dream, she was seated on her throne. The room around her was empty, but the air shimmered and rippled, like the surface of a pond on a hot day. Although she was a lone she couldn’t shake the sensation that someone - or something - was watching her.

Then she saw him. 

Michael Burnham’s daemon stood in the doorway, tail curled around his paws, golden eyes staring straight through her. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Philippa knew that was strange, not right. She shook her head, trying to clear it. The daemon - his name was Silas, she remembered - rose to his feet and walked toward her. In the waking world his footfalls were soft, featherlight, but here they echoed around the throne room. Philippa felt each step reverberate in her head and she clenched her fists at her sides. Taking a deep breath she strode forward to meet the daemon.

He disappeared. 

She looked around, but the throne room was empty. No Silas. Still no Michael.

Philippa felt her heartbeat growing steadily faster, becoming an intense thrumming in her chest. Looking down, she saw movement, as though her heart were trying to beat its way to freedom.

She lifted her hand - when had it started shaking? - and placed it against her chest. To her horror her fingers curled of their own accord, and sunk through her uniform, pushing deeper into her skin. She drew her hand away with a cry, and a ripping noise sliced through the air around her. The air around her seemed to ripple, blurring her vision and sending her head reeling. Blinking unsteadily, she looked in horror at her hand, fingers curled around the pulsing red organ, still attached to her by threads of artery and muscle. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she felt her limbs grow weak. In front of her eyes, her heart fell from her grasp and...

She awoke, breathing heavily. Her head throbbed, and her chest felt heavy, her heart beating a staccato rhythm. But at least it was still there. Eyes closed, she took in several deep breaths. The pain in her head subsided, and her heartbeat slowed. But that pressure was still there, pushing down on her.

It was then that she had looked down, and seen the snake coiled up on her chest.

Truth be told, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up in such a predicament. She had been on the receiving end of multiple assassination attempts, which had been as creatively varied as the punishments she had enacted on their instigators.

But this was different. Somehow there was no rush of adrenaline, no fight or flight response kicking in, no survival instinct screaming at her to draw the knife from beneath the pillow and slice through the creature before it could strike.

Instead she simply blinked, and regarded the creature before her. It wasn’t the largest snake she had ever seen, but it was easily the size of her fist. Glossy black scales covered its body, thin white bands striping across its body intermittently.

She had thought it to be still but now she saw that it was moving slowly, almost hypnotically. Those smooth scales slid over one another, and a whispering sound seemed to echo throughout the room as it raised its head.

He was regal. A creature that could inspire both fear and wonder. A creature of cunning, of determination. Something beautiful.

She had been frozen in place since the moment she had awoken, her breath held in her chest, almost burning her from inside. 

But now, as he raised his head to meet her gaze, she exhaled.. There was a look in his eyes, emotion that she hadn’t thought a snake capable of portraying. Half expectant, half calm.

As though he had been waiting for her. As though those eyes had been watching her for her entire life, but only now had been seen in return.

She knew him. Just as he knew her. They were one and the same. In this world, she was no longer alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daemon Forms
> 
> Michael - Serval  
> Mirror Georgiou - Eastern Kingsnake


	5. Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has an unsettling conversation with Captain Pike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting this! Work has been crazy but I'm hoping to get back into a better schedule.

Michael and Silus stood outside the door to the Captain’s Ready Room.

“So you have absolutely know idea why he’s called us”, Silus murmured, looking up to meet her gaze.

“You know I don’t”.

“Do you think it’s Spock? Maybe he-”

The door swished open and Michael nudged Silus with her foot, willing him to be quiet.

“Come in Commander Burnham. No need to wait for an invitation”.

She stepped in, taking a moment to reorient herself in the changed space. The room felt lighter, more welcoming. Then her eyes fell on the bowl that still sat on the table, and a twinge of adrenaline zipped through her veins, unbidden.

Captain Christopher Pike sat at the table, turning a fortune cookie over in his fingers, studying it. His daemon, a pale shadow by his chair, sat back on her haunches. 

From the moment the Enterprise away crew had materialised in the transporter room, Michael had been struck by her presence. Even though she had been almost immediately distracted by confusion and concern at Spock’s absence, her interest had been piqued by the wolf that stood at Pike’s side. She was a sandy grey, with dark, almost black fur along the ridge of her back. Her eyes were a yellowish green, with an intensity that matched her human counterpart’s.

Michael cleared her throat.

“You wanted to see me sir”.

He looked up. Then down again at his clasped hand.

“These were Lorca’s?”

“Yes”.

He offered the bowl to her, grimacing in understanding when she shook her head. Michael cleared her throat.

“You were right, what you said on the bridge. His betrayal. It… affected the entire crew”.

“After what I was told in my briefing before coming aboard, I’m not surprised” Pike was silent for a moment, looking down at the wolf.

"I also heard that his daemon changed form, that didn’t alert anyone?”

“Apparently not. I believe the change was put down to battle trauma.”

“Of course. You know,” Pike leaned back in his chair, hand coming down to touch the back of his demon’s neck.

“I’ve always found the notion of such a change fascinating. I mean, when a person’s daemon settles, that’s supposed to be it. For one’s sense of self to change so much… Unimaginable.”

Michael thought of Ariam, and wondered if Pike knew.

“Sir,” She crossed her arms and leaned forward, brow furrowing.

“Where is this conversation going?”

Two pairs of eyes looked at each, then at her.

“Because I was wondering if that you ever noticed anything in Spock”.

Michael blinked in surprise.

“Spock?”

“Yes. When you last saw him, I was wondering if you might have… noticed anything? About his daemon.”

Michael looked down. In her mind’s eyes she saw the young vulcan boy and the older human girl, sitting at the dinner table. The girl’s daemon changed form every few seconds. A squirrel with tufted ears, then a snowy dove, then a puppy with large paws that slid and clicked on the table’s surface. The boy’s eyes were locked on his own daemon as she changed to match Silus. With every new form he would smile wider, eyes taking in the new and unfamiliar shape. 

_He loved hearing about the creatures of Earth. ___

__She blinked again, aware of the eyes on her._ _

__“The last time I saw Spock… no, I don’t remember anything wrong. Aylsa, she hadn’t even settled yet. I suppose by now..”_ _

_I never even asked Amanda what she looked like. Or Sarek._

____

____

__Pike nodded._ _

__“She was a kind of lizard. Vulcan in origin. Beautiful. Changed colours like a chameleon.”_ _

__“An askor”. She remembered seeing them on vulcan, had loved how their scales had rippled with waves of colour. Camouflaged red against the sand, or standing out in brilliant patterns of purple and green._ _

__Michael frowned. Something nagged at her, tightening her chest infinitesimally._ _

__“Did you say _was?”___

____Pike leaned forward to meet her, bringing their heads almost conspiratorially close._ _ _ _

____“The last time I spoke to Spock. When he asked for shore leave. She was different.”_ _ _ _

____“She had changed?”_ _ _ _

____“Not just changed. she was _changing.__ Before my eyes. I’d never seen anything like it. Spock told me it was a rare Vulcan reaction to stress.”___

______She’d never heard of such a thing._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s not true.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I thought as much.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She didn’t understand. What could that mean. If Aylsa could change, had changed. What did that say about her brother? About who he was._ _ _ _ _ _

______About what he could be capable of._ _ _ _ _ _

______Silus growled, uncertainty rising in his throat. His tail flocked back and forth in time to Michael’s increasing heartbeat._ _ _ _ _ _

______Pike’s eyebrows knitted together and he clasped his hands. Aneshka laid her head on his knee. Michael looked up from her own daemon to meet his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wherever Spock is, Commander Burnham. I believe something is very, very wrong.”_ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events mentioned in this chapter will be revisited soon. Next chapter will centre around Reno, Culber, and Stamets.
> 
> Daemon Forms:
> 
> Michael - Serval  
> Pike - Mexican wolf

**Author's Note:**

> To see some more of my daemon form headcanons I have the link to the original tumblr post I made when I was just starting to think about this AU [here](https://sunnysideblogup.tumblr.com/post/639732213029732352/ok-so-i-may-or-may-not-have-just-binged-discovery)


End file.
